


Alternatopia: Savage Watch

by ConfusedGoatee_01



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, T.A.M.E. Shock Collars (Zootopia)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 07:43:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19044160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConfusedGoatee_01/pseuds/ConfusedGoatee_01
Summary: A gift to Ytodd for their very good story in Alternatopia: Real Savages.Reginald C. Weaselton, first weasel officer and smallest collared pred in the Z.P.D. hates a lot of things. This raccoon however, he doesn't. Take a glimpse into the life of their relationship as city shaping events happen around them.





	Alternatopia: Savage Watch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ytodd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytodd/gifts).



> An OC of mine makes an appearance in the original story, and it got stuck in my head on how his life would be different.

       Reginald C. Weaselton hated many things. His top three though were bullies at number one, followed closely by arrogant individuals, and third being avocados. It never made sense why they took off in popularity. They were just nasty tasting "fruit" that looked and tasted like smashed peas. That's baby food! Why would grown ass mammals eat that!? Never made sense.

What did make sense to the small mammal was that moose was an asshole.

The weasel had started the week before at Precinct Three, first weasel cop and smallest collared pred in the Z.P.D. Duchess was proud, and Mary couldn't stop poking fun of him for his career choice, but it didn't feel any different to Reggie. Sure, his collar had a higher setting, and the mustela did look good in his uniform, yet it did nothing to reassure him on his place in society. He was still a pred, and there was still a collar around his throat.

But this moose…

Being the lowest on the proverbial totem, by rank, species, and actual height, meant that all the piss poor shifts were given to the weasel. He just finished up the night shift, a twelve to eight grind with a passive aggressive ram, when the mustela was informed that someone called out and he needed to work the eight to four shift as well. With not much time between shifts, as in zero, Reggie decided to risk it and run over to a local coffee shop to pick up something that didn't taste like mud. He just made it through the door, only one mammal ahead of him, when that bastard moose just had to make his day harder.

The large cervid had stuck out his hoof and tripped a raccoon, then blamed the masked mammal for spilling his coffee! As if somehow the procyon jumped six feet in the air to knock the bottom of the larger mammal's cup. This all happened in front of the exhausted weasel who just wanted his own drink. To make it worse, the moose's other hand was one of those avocado toast things that all the trendy places sold.

And then verbal sewage began spewing from the moose's mouth.

"You spilled my coffee, you piece of trash," belittled the moose, his well-tailored blue suit mismatched by his rancid attitude.

"I-I'm sorry," apologized the raccoon meekly, the top of her head wet with the drink as her collar threatened to turn read, "I-I-I-"

"You, you, you," taunted the moose condescendingly, lowering himself closer to the procyon, "you just didn't think, did you?" The cervid scoffed and straightened up, a sneer on his snout as he stared down at the smaller mammal. "I'm going to need to speak to your manager."

The raccoon's expression changed to sheer panic, as her collar momentarily flickered red and the telltale zap of the device echoed in the store. "P-please don't!" exclaimed the terrified procyon, her ears pinned, with hands clasped pleadingly together, "I'm so sorry sir! I-"

Reggie couldn't take it anymore. Whether it was the lack of sleep, the desperate need for caffeine, or the fact that somehow the moose was the trifecta of hatred, the weasel snapped.

"Hey," the officer shouted, black, beady eyes narrowing on the larger mammal as his brown fur stood on end, "piss off!"

The moose's eyes went wide, obviously not expecting any pushback. He quickly recovered with a sneer and a roll of his eyes. "Stay out of this," the cervid started confidently, "You're just a token cop, who…"

The larger mammal trailed off as Reggie grasped the grip of his tranq pistol and tapped a claw against the weapon. As several seconds of the only noise being the light plink from the weasel's action. Eventually the mustela's brow rose, and his own sneer appeared on his muzzle.

"Is that distracting?" Reggie asked rhetorically, "the token officer with the gun too hard to look away from?" He licked his needle-sharp teeth as he stared unblinking at the larger mammal.

"I'll, I'll, I'll-"

"You'll, you'll, you'll," Reggie mocked back, "you'll do what?" He stepped forward, craning his neck to continue to look the moose in the eye. "Call my manager?" the smaller mammal seethed, "How will that help you now?"

The moose's snouted opened and shut dumbfounded. Apparently, this was the first time a pred had ever stood up to the larger mammal, and it just so happened to be a weasel. The cervid's brow furrowed as he tried to start, then stopped. Tried again, growing increasingly frustrated, but still nothing. Finally, he glared murderously at the mustela.

"This isn't over," he glowered.

"Whatever," Reggie grumbled, folding his arms defensively, "go enjoy your mushy peas and don't like the door hit your ass."

The moose looked momentarily confused, then huffed and stormed off.

The raccoon had remained silent during the males' tiff. The weasel focused back on the procyon as soon as the cervid left the shop. He could see her red, puffy eyes, and her collar was still yellow. She was wiping fruitlessly at the soaked top of her head, when she noticed the officer staring.

"You didn't have to intervene," she mumbled quietly, wringing her paws nervously and looking at the floor, "If I didn't…"

"Don't worry about it," Reggie tried to say confidently, but with his adrenaline running high it came off gruffer than he intended. He grimaced when the raccoon nodded meekly.

Behind the tears were dark brown eyes that reflected the same hopelessness that existed in all preds. Brown from the coffee had stained the white and light grey fur that shaped her face, the black "mask" around her eyes and down the bridge of her nose seemingly untouched. Her attire of a black t-shirt with blue jeans and a green apron were obviously stained. She appeared to be taller than the weasel but slouched as if to make herself smaller.

As if to hide.

"You gonna be alright?" Reggie asked, honestly concerned about the procyon's welfare. They had just met, but she looked like how the mustela felt. Life hadn't gone right, and there wasn't anything to do about it.

"I'll be fine," the procyon replied meekly, still not looking the mustela in the eye.

The two stood in an awkward silence before the weasel was reminded why he came to the cafe. Caffeine. His need punctuated by a yawn that stretched his whole mouth wide. The officer blinked to clear the tears and focused on the raccoon.

"Well, uh…" Reggie squinted as he tried to read the small name tag pinned to the procyon's apron, "...Sheri...I'm glad you're alright." He sniffed and stood up straight, planting his paws over his duty belt. "Good deeds and whatever. Now," the weasel gestured with his head to the counter, "I'm thirsty."

A young male gazelle, with folded arms and a name tag that read "Karl" glared down at the mustela.

Reggie cleared his throat and shifted on his paws. "Can I just get a-"

"You need to leave," the taller mammal stated bluntly.

The weasel considered getting into another altercation, but two in less than an hour would probably get him fired. Instead Reggie nodded his head in agreement, then flipped off the herbivore. "Sit and spin." The mustela then turned on his heels, keeping his digit raised, and walked towards the doors. He cast a quick glance at the downtrodden raccoon one more time before pulling open the large door.

He really hoped she wouldn't get fired.

* * *

Reggie would be the first to admit that his mouth got him into more trouble than the average weasel. He said it like it was and didn't hold back. This time though, the weasel's actions spoke much louder.

The moose did lodge a complaint, no surprise from power trippers like  _that_  dick, which led to the mustela getting his tail wringed out like a wet towel. There was something about "abuse of power," "overstepping boundaries," and something, something, "eroding relationships." It was all well and good, but in the end the weasel kept his job. Of course, he'd be working double shifts of unpaid overtime until he retired, and would have to have weekly evaluations on his performance,  ** _and_**  had to go to anger management classes, but the mustela got to tell off a prick.

So, silver lining.

Reggie had been relieved of duty for the day, and for the next two as well. It would've been a nice vacation if money wasn't tight. Three days of unpaid leave meant late on the rent. The supervisor of the apartment the weasel's family lived in was a pred, but that didn't make that badger any more merciful. He'd have to talk to Duke, Duchess and Mary, try to ration out their expenses, maybe even skip a few meals just to be sure.

As the mustela exited down the concrete front steps of Precinct Three, sun's rays beating down through the canopy of the Rainforest District, a familiar sight caught his eye. It was the raccoon. She looked different, less brown, and was wearing a muted green dress. Her paws were behind her back, and she twisted a nervous foot in the ground. The procyon's nervous expression disappeared as her gaze met the weasel's, completely changing to one of exuberance.

When the female rushed up the steps towards the male, Reggie couldn't help but step back up a step. He never in a million years would have believed he would have seen the raccoon again. In fact, the weasel didn't expect to go back to that cafe at all. It didn't help that the only mammals that rushed  ** _that_**  quickly at the mustela weren't going for a hug. Which confused the officer further when the procyon did. The raccoon stopped a few steps away from the mustela, nervously glancing around as the smile on her muzzle lessened.

"Uh, hello," started the female awkwardly, giving a just as awkward wave to the officer.

"Hey," Reggie replied cautiously, not sure of the procyon's agenda.

"I realized I never thanked you."

The weasel shrugged nonchalantly, "S'ok."

The raccoon's smile momentarily disappeared, before an even smaller one appeared. She rubbed her together nervously, gaze darting between the weasel and the steps. "I-I just wanted to say how  _great_  it was th-that you stood up to that customer." The insides of her ears tinged red as she focused fully on the steps, smile growing with each passing moment. "No's ever stood up for me before, and...and I just wanted to say-"

The female was cut off by a loud gurgle from Reggie's stomach. The mustela frowned, when did he eat last? He couldn't remember. Was it yesterday? The officer huffed and rolled his eyes, just like him to forget to eat.

"You hungry?" Reggie asked bluntly, a paw rubbing his apparently empty stomach.

The raccoon blinked, "Um, sure?"

"Good, let's go eat."

The procyon blinked, " _Where_?"

The mustela gestured with his head to the right, "There's the Sunrise Diner that serves pred food. Gotta get closer to the climate wall." He rolled a free paw as he continued his journey down the Precinct's steps. "We can talk more when we get there."

"But, uh-"

Reggie sighed with a shake of his head, "I can't deal with hero worship on an empty stomach." He couldn't deal with hero worship at  ** _all_** , but the officer wasn't going to say that. The weasel glanced over his shoulder when he didn't see the raccoon following. "You coming?" The female quickly rushed down the steps to catch up. The mustela focused back onto his journey.

"I, uh, don't have any money," the procyon said softly.

"Guess your job don't pay well," Reggie stated matter of fact. When there was no response, he glanced over to the female. The raccoon's head was down, and ears pinned back. The weasel fought back a sneer, "Fired?" The raccoon nodded curtly. Reggie clicked his tongue, running it against the back of his teeth. "They're assholes anyway," he tried to comfort.

The raccoon shrugged noncommittally.

The officer sighed and rolled his head on his shoulders. Wasn't getting much conversation out of…

The weasel stopped dead in his tracks and pointed a claw at the raccoon. She threw up her paws in surrender, collar momentarily flashing yellow before settling back to green. "What's your name?" Reggie questioned.

"Sh-Sheri!" the procyon squeaked nervously, shrinking under the mustela's gaze.

Reggie scratched his chin with a frown, "Oh yeah…" He shook his head, "Well, whatever." The mustela gestured with his head in the direction of the diner, "Let's go."

The unlikely pair continued their quiet journey through the Rainforest District, droplets of water falling from the leaves all around them. The humidity was rising, and soon most mammals in the district would either hide indoors or look like a giant puffball. The officer didn't care which way, thoughts drifting back to the tongue lashing he had just received. It was only a trepid poke in the shoulder that reminded the weasel of his company. Reggie glanced at the procyon with a raised brow.

"What?"

The raccoon wilted under the officer's gaze, unconsciously trying to make herself as small as possible. She raised a hesitant claw with an unsure grimace. "You, uh, didn't say your name…"

The mustela scratched his throat with a frown. Had it forgotten? "Call me Reggie," he stated off-paw.

"Reg-gie," Sheri repeated timidly, as if getting used to the word. She smiled and clasped her paws together, "Thank you Reggie!"

Reggie rolled his eyes, "No hero worship, right?"

"Right," the procyon replied softly with a nod, though her mirth remaining.

The weasel couldn't handle the female's genuinely smile and looked away bashfully. He rubbed the back of his head, trying to hide a smile of his own. "Whatever," he grumbled halfheartedly, "I'm hungry, and I want a burger. No more delays either."

The pair started off again, though this time the procyon much closer. Reggie didn't understand why, but he had bigger problems on his mind. Like did he have cash on him.

* * *

       Reggie made a mistake. A reasonable, definitely deserved it kind of one, but still a mistake, nonetheless. He didn't regret tackling Wilde yesterday, and if the weasel had time, he wouldn't have minded smacking him around a bit. But that bunny…. what's her name?

Lopps.

Hotts.

Hopps!

That was it, Judy Hopps. The bunny who took down the polar bear. She could definitely take a punch and give one as well! If she hadn't had been there, well Reggie would probably still be in that alley with Wilde. Which meant that the mustela still wouldn't know where Duke was, and that he would've beaten a mammal for nothing. And as much as the weasel would have enjoyed putting the screws to that bastard tod, he was a cop now. Personal revenge stuff isn't why he joined the Z.P.D., though at the moment he couldn't remember why in the first place.

Reggie sighed; eyes closed as he tried to deal with this new dilemma. The paw that was running up and down his cream-colored chest moved lower. "Don't," the weasel mumbled in protest, "not now." The paw returned to its original ministrations. The mustela cracked open one of his black eyes to look at the mammal lying next to him.

It was Sheri. The couple were lying on her bed in the cramped room of the raccoon's shared apartment. The room itself was dark and dank, thanks to the near constant rainfall of the Rainforest District. Three bunk beds lined the walls, with the only door to the rest of the apartment on the other side. A small window was the only illumination, but it was enough for the two mammals. The constant humidity made it useless to have anything on the beds except for a sheet and pillow, items that the pair were not using. Five other mammals lived there, all preds and most working night jobs. The only one who didn't, a nosey otter, was thankfully at work. None of the roommates knew Reggie was a cop, and if they did it may get awkward fast. Still, the mustela was just glad to have a moment alone with his girlfriend.

Sheri was beautiful, and just as nude as the male. The light grey fur of the female turned into a pure white on her chest and stomach, trailing down to the one part of the procyon softer than her tail. Her soft brown eyes watched the mustela with a small, contented smile on her muzzle. If not for the constant green light as a reminder of its existence, it would have been a picture perfect moment for the weasel.

"What's wrong?" Sheri asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Reggie frowned, then looked away in shame. "I, uh, did something today…" He sighed and closed his eyes, "...something that I shouldn't do."

"Was it for Duke?" The officer hesitated, then nodded. "Well it can't be too bad, right?"

"It wasn't great," the weasel admitted, "and if not for some dumb bunny, it may have been worse." The female lightly slapped his chest, causing the male to jolt with a low grunt. "What was that for?"

"Don't call another mammal dumb," Sheri stated sternly, though her voice never lost its softness, "You  _can't_  judge a mammal like that."

Reggie chuckled, paw rubbing the spot where the raccoon hit him, "You're right. Who am I to say whose smart or not?" Another smack, this time a bit harder. "Damn it Sher!" exclaimed an increasingly frustrated weasel, "I was  ** _agreeing_**  with you!"

"By putting yourself down," the procyon retorted, "something you shouldn't  ** _do_**."

The mustela scoffed, rolling onto his side to face the raccoon. "I didn't get into the Academy with my  ** _grades_** ," Reggie replied sardonically, "but because I'm  _tough_  as  ** _nails_**!"

Sheri's expression grew uncharacteristically blank, "Is that the  ** _only_**  reason?" She poked the officer's stomach, "Nothing to do with studying between jobs?"

The weasel frowned, "No, it's because I'm tough."

The raccoon chuckled lightly, "Ok, Regg. If you say so."

"I do."

Sheri laughed in response, "Ok mister  ** _male_**." She reached towards the weasel and laid her arm against his side, bringing her face closer to his. They laid in silence, the mustela's eyes closed, as the pair enjoyed each other's company.

Reggie wasn't sure when he and Sheri became a couple. From the first lunch came idle chat about themselves, followed by a dinner, then an outing, and before the weasel knew it they were dating. The officer didn't plan for a relationship, but that's what happened. And if the mustela were to be honest with himself, he loved it. Just the knowledge that there was another mammal outside of his family that cared about his wellbeing filled the male with hope that he never experienced. A hope for a better future. A hope that was being tested not only by the city and his co-workers, but his missing uncle. At that moment, and as if the procyon read his mind, she asked the one question that he couldn't answer.

"What are you going to do about Duke?"

Reggie sighed and ran his paw over the female's arm, digits digging through the lush fur as his mind raced with terrible idea after another. "Something stupid," the officer finally answered.

"Don't," Sheri whispered desperately.

"I might have  ** _too_** ," the weasel replied, "Mary and Duchess are a mess. I  ** _really_**  should be with them still, but I…"

"They can't  ** _lose_**  you  ** _too_** ," the raccoon retorted, "without you  ** _and_**  Duke…" Sheri trailed off as the male heard telltale sound of her collar changing to yellow. She breathed in a shallow breath before a wet sigh escaped her. "P-Please, don't do something stupid!"

Reggie grimaced. The new number three on his list was the procyon crying, and he had seen it too many times. Often times it was other mammals causing it, but once in a blue moon it was because of something moronic the weasel said. In fact, just before Sheri started crying, the very dumb idea of tracking down and grabbing Mr. Big crossed his mind. It would have been dangerous, possibly suicidal, but he was desperate to find Duke. That desperation waned as the female cried on his shoulder.

"Sher…," Reggie started hesitantly, "I can't do  _nothing_. It's  ** _Duke_**! He would do the same for me!"

" ** _Then_**   ** _find him_**!" Sheri shouted, collar turning red and shocking both mammals. The weasel snarled involuntarily as she sobbed silently against the male. It would take several seconds of her collar threatening to turn red again before the raccoon finally settled down. "You're my hero, Regg," the procyon started deliberately, "and I believe you can  _find_  Duke." She looked up at the male, eyes shimmering with tears as she sniffed and held onto the mustela desperately, "Just don't get yourself  _killed_."

Reggie opened his muzzle to retort, to tell Sheri that his life was  ** _always_**  on the line. There was never a day, a shift, or even a simple ticketing that couldn't end in the weasel's demise. He accepted his own mortality the first time Rick left him gasping desperately for air on the living room floor, body busted and barely conscious. It was only reinforced when that bully of a father died, then his mother not too long after. It put the world into a finite perspective, one that dominated the mustela's limited thought process for so many years.

Until recently.

"Alright, alright," Reggie sighed, wrapping both arms as best he could around the raccoon, "stop your crying, I'll be a good weasel and won't do anything stupid."

Sheri sniffed again, laying her head against the mustela, "Promise?"

The weasel grimaced, glancing down to see if the procyon could see his hesitation. "Uh, yeah...sure. Definitely."

"You're lying," the raccoon stated matter of fact.

"Maybe," the male retorted, "but that's cause mammals do  ** _stupid_**  things around me!" The raccoon giggled, which made the weasel softly smile in return. He really couldn't control what mammals did, but the mustela knew one thing. No matter what it would take, Reggie would find Duke and return to Sheri.

How else was his family supposed to meet his girlfriend?

* * *

         Reggie was having a bad day, and he could barely contain it all. The savage state was a lie, and he had the proof. That insane badger hacker sent a file to his phone. The weasel was nowhere near smart enough to understand the gibberish in the documents, but he  ** _did_**  know the importance of it. If they were released prematurely, or even too late, it would be disaster for not only Zootopia, but every predator in the city!

The weasel hurried to the Sunrise Diner, Sheri's new place of employment. His mind was going a mile a minute and he needed a distraction. Work wasn't helping either. Watching co-workers and civilians walk around without knowing what was really going on burned the mustela to the point that his collar was an almost constant yellow. When asked about it, Reggie would blame it on lack of sleep. Chief Blackfur called him to her office to try and talk to the rookie down, but it didn't help. He just wanted to rage.

The officer continued his journey to the greasy spoon of a diner near the climate wall separating Tundra Town and the Rainforest District. He was off duty and out of uniform, wearing dark hoodie and sweatpants, but his constant scowl and tense walk seemed to keep mammals at bay around him. The fact that his collar was still yellow, and the fur on his tail was standing on end helped. He probably looked like he was about to go savage, even if it was a terrible lie created by BellSec.

Shade from the foliage above striped the worn faux wood sidewalk the mustela walked on. It would normally cool the officer to stand in the forgiving shadows, but now it pissed him off further. Why couldn't it choose between light and dark? Why did it have to be so fucking grey? It should just be that, light and dark, good and evil, caramel and  ** _fucking_**  avocado!  ** _That's_** how the world should work.  ** _That's_** how the city should run.  ** _That's_** -

Reggie's internal tirade was disrupted when a muntjac bumped into the weasel.

"Watch yourself,  ** _snake_**!" the deer hissed with a glare, his red polo and khaki shorts alone enough to push the mustela over the edge, "I  ** _don't_** want a nasty  ** _roach_** like you-"

The muntjac was cut off by the officer, who quickly grabbed the herbivore's collar and pulled him down to the smaller mammal's level. "Listen to me you piece of shit  _chomper_ ," Reggie started, his voice low and deadly, "If you say  ** _one more_**  thing about me, I will bit off your  _fucking_  face." The weasel pulled the deer closer as he bared his needle-sharp teeth, "Then after that I'll find your family and bite of  ** _their_**  faces until you're all faceless  ** _assholes_**  who can't be identified." Heart racing, and collar already at yellow, Reggie quickly grasped the muntjac's snout. "Is that  ** _clear!?_** "

The oncoming shock from the weasel's infernal collar jolted the herbivore, causing the mammal to quickly pull out of the mustela's grasp completely and fall backwards. "You're a  ** _fucking_**   ** _savage_**!" the deer spat, crawling away from the weasel.

Reggie cocked his head to the side, eyes wide and unblinking as he stared down at the muntjac. He grinned menacingly, "I'm still lucid," the mustela whispered, "aren't I?" That was enough for the muntjac, who scampered to his hooves and quickly rushed off. His shouting of a "crazed pred" made the mustela even more aware of the mammals around him. Of the mammals  ** _watching_**  him. Reggie decided sprinting was the best course of action.

Eventually, after several shortcuts and double backs to confuse any mammal following, the weasel made it to the Sunrise Diner. It's faded red roof and rusted metal walls called back to days past, but even those days weren't good. A dirty glass door was the only exit and entrance, made only for medium and large predators. Reggie had to wait for someone to exit or enter, slipping past a jaguar who had just finished his lunch. The faux black and white tiles were cleaner than the exterior, and the red plastic seats of the booths and stools didn't have  ** _too_**  many holes in them. As usual, the only clientele were preds of all different size, and thankfully it was the ending of the diner's lunch rush.

Reggie kept his head down as he headed towards the back of the diner. There was a small mammals booth that was normally overlooked, and therefore perfect for the mustela to sit at. It may take some time for Sheri to see him, but the weasel needed time to calm down. He didn't want to procyon to see the mess he had become. The officer closed his eyes and breathed in and out.

A long time ago, Rick had taught Reggie some of his secrets. Most of the time it ended with the younger weasel coughing furiously and trying not to cry. The son only learned two things from his father. One, never be like Mad Rick. Two, how to take a hit. The indirect lesson the officer also learned was that the body would calm itself down after adrenaline stopped pumping. Reggie assumed it had to do with chemicals or something like that, but he wasn't a damn doctor, so he didn't need to know anyway. What it did mean though, was that when the weasel dug his claws into his palms, causing pain and the rush of adrenaline, he could force himself to calm down afterward.

This time however, the mustela's trick wasn't working.

Reggie pressed his claws deeply against his palm, their blunt ends almost cutting into him. He would release, wait, then have to do it again as the weasel's body refused to relax. The officer's collar almost threatened to turn red again, when a plate landed gently on the table. The mustela's gaze jumped from the salmon burger and fries in front of him to the mammal who delivered it.

It was Sheri, wearing the sky-blue dress and white apron that was her uniform. The raccoon looked tired, but the smile she wore held none of her exhaustion. "Saw you come in, so I put in for your favorite," the procyon said, "though I didn't expect- are you ok?"

Reggie was staring slack jawed at the raccoon. The light was shining behind her as if to show her truly angelic form. It was a balm that momentarily drew his attention. He blinked, then shook his head.

"I…" the mustela let out a staggered sigh and bowed his head in shame, "...I'm not ok..."

"Does this have to do with that thing you wouldn't tell me about?" Reggie nodded curtly. "...you did something stupid, didn't you?" The weasel opened his muzzle, but nothing came out. He quickly shut it and nodded again. The raccoon sighed and slid into the booth across from the male. "...is there anyway I can help?"

The officer's gaze shot up from the table to the raccoon. His eyes were drawn to the wicked collar around her neck, green light mocking the weasel. It didn't belong there, not around Sheri's neck. Not around the sweetest, most innocent, least violent mammal whoever walked the earth! It didn't belong on  ** _any_** of their necks, forcing them to feel  ** _pain_**  because of a  ** _lie_**! Treating all preds like  ** _slaves_** , beneath the  ** _mighty_**  hooves of herbivores!  ** _None of them_**  deserved this fate.  ** _All of them_**  deserved to be free, and if the weasel could he would-

Reggie's internal rant was cut short by the tortuous device around his own neck. Lower setting or not, the mustela was still setting it off. He gripped the edge of the table as hard as he could and closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing mind. The weasel couldn't take it anymore. The only solution was to hide the evidence from himself. If not, then the mustela might be tempted to do something  ** _really_**  stupid.

Like fighting random prey.

"Th-there is," Reggie started hesitantly, pulling his gaze away from the procyon's collar and looking back down at the table, "I need you to hold onto something for me."

"What is it?" Sheri asked gently, her soft gaze watching the male with concern.

The mustela fidgeted with his paws, before shoving one into his pants pocket and digging out his phone. He placed the device on the table as gingerly as though it may explode, though its contents could do that alone.

"My phone," Reggie stated in a rushed tone, gripping his paws tightly together, "but I need you to promise me something."

"What's that?"

"Don't look at it."

Sheri's paw was inches away from the phone, just about to pick it up, when she stopped. The raccoon's eyes studied the weasel's increasingly agitated expression. "Why?" she finally asked seriously, the light of her collar momentarily flickering yellow.

Reggie opened his muzzle to explain, to tell her about all the lies that everyone had been fed for  ** _decades_** , but he stopped and bit his lip hard. If BellSec found out that the officer had the information, then anyone who also knew would be in danger. In fact, it was a risk giving the device to Sheri, one that could put her life on the line. The mustela's problem was, if he told Duchess or Mary not to look at it, there is a hundred percent certainty that they do. With procyon though…

"It's dangerous..." Reggie started bluntly, his gaze quickly scanning the diner to make sure no one was listening. There didn't appear to be any mammals close to the couple. "...too dangerous for anyone to find out about."

"What is it?" Sheri questioned quietly, ears tilting back as she leaned closer to the weasel, "nothing...illegal?"

The weasel suppressed a grimace. It was both illegal for happening  ** _and_**  illegally obtained. Without an official warrant, the information would never hold up in the court of law. That wouldn't matter though, as rioting would be the more than likely immediate outcome if Zootopia found out. Reggie bit his lip and reached a paw towards the raccoon.

"Just...trust me and don't look at it…but…"

"But..." Sheri pressed, grasping the mustela's paw and giving it an encouraging squeeze.

"...but if something happens to me," Reggie continued, his voice becoming firm, "if I or all the Weaselton's go savage or disappear, show everyone." He reached out his other paw and grasped the female's. "And Sher, I mean  ** _everyone_**. Do whatever  ** _you_**  have to do for the information to get out...and then  ** _run_**."

The raccoon stared at male with a solemn expression for several tense seconds, then nodded slowly. "Ok Reggie, I believe in you."

The officer let out a relieved sigh, the weight of such an enormous burden lightened if only a little. "Thank you, Sheri. You don't know how much this means to me! And…" The weasel straightened in his seat and squeezed the procyon's paw. "When this is all over, and when Duke's back and right, let's go somewhere.  _Anywhere_  outside the city."

"Wait," Sheri started, her ears tilting up and at the male, "what do you mean when Duke's  _right_? Did something  _happen_?"

"Sher, please," Reggie begged desperately, "please, please,  ** _please_**  don't ask me!"

The raccoon frowned, then let out a mirthless laugh, "You really get into trouble, Mister  ** _Weaselton_**...but I know you'll be ok."

"How's that?" Reggie asked, unable to help himself.

Sheri cocked her head with a genuine smile, "Because you only do what's right, no matter the consequences." She slid out of the booth; paw still trapped between the weasel's. "And that's why I  _love_  you." The raccoon grimaced, "But now I need to get to work." The female gingerly pulled her one paw out of the male's hold, while the other scooped up his phone. "I promise not to look, but when this is all over-"

"You'll know everything by then," Reggie reassured, "I can promise you  ** _that_**."

Sheri hesitated at the mustela's words, worried about possible cryptic meanings behind them, but eventually left the weasel to tend to her customers.

The officer let out a heavy sigh when she did and ran a paw over the top of his head. It had to be done, and now he could focus on his next set of problems. Reggie picked up a fry, giving it a once over before tossing it into his mouth. First, getting a new phone and telling the Chief. Second, bringing down all the bastards allowed preds to be collared. From what he saw, they ticked all his boxes for pissing the weasel off.

They probably liked avocados too.


End file.
